Heretic
by jade
Summary: AU. The Granger family is infamous for its scholars and tutors. Among the family, one girl, considered to be one of their best, will discover that the world is far more than just books and papers, but at what cost? Complete.
1. Part the First

Hello! This is the second story in my _Inferiorum _series but, before you go, "Crap, I haven't read the first story." It is perfectly fine to read this story first because it won't really spoil anything in the first story. (But if you want to hop off and read _Doppelganger_ first, that's fine.) The first five stories in this series can be read in any order. So, have at thee!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters.

Warnings: Cruelty to animals.

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**Heretic**

Part the First

"Character is higher than intellect."

_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

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It was a busy day at the Granger household. Well, everyday was a busy day at the Granger household. With the entire Granger family—which was very well extended, there was usually _something _happening. At any given time, one could stick their head out their bedroom door and see four or five family members rushing past, usually loaded down with books, papers, pens, and ink.

Although some people complained that all the rushing around bothered them when they were in their private studies, Hermione often said that the noise helped her think. When the thumping of feet could be heard up and down the halls, Hermione would simply turn another page in her book and proceed with taking notes.

But that was Hermione Granger, who was considered a true Granger since she picked up her first book (at age three) and taught herself how to read. She received her own study at the age of five—something that was usually unheard of until a Granger hit the age of seven, when their schooling started. Now that she was twelve, Hermione didn't even _have _lessons with the other children her age. The matriarch of the family, the eighty-year-old Grandmother Granger (who was always referred to as 'The Head') often came by and patted Hermione on the head, something that shocked the older members of the family because Grandmother Granger was so strict and critical of others that most of the children were too scared to even talk to her. Many of the adults felt the same way.

But Grandmother Granger _was_ the Head of the family and that meant when she died, she'd appoint a new head of the family. From what most people could see, Hermione Granger might be the youngest Head ever named. Some feared that Hermione would grow a large head over all this but she didn't, she seemed perfectly content to lock herself away for hours at a time to sit in her study and read volume after volume, taking notes, writing some of her own books on subjects. Usually a Granger would have to be very learned on a subject and have years of study before they were allowed to submit a book to the infamous Granger library but Hermione was an exceptional child.

The Granger family as a whole was famous for producing wonderful tutors and learned scholars. From the age of seven, children were schooled in everything that nobility preferred their children's education to include. Philosophy, Literature, Maths, History, that sort of thing. When nobility requested a tutor, the Granger family could provide one.

Of course, they weren't always the Granger family. At one time they had been the Most Intelligent House of Granger. But that was back before the King had fallen.

"I can't understand why we don't have any histories from that time." Hermione frowned at the rows of books in front of her in the Library. "And nobody ever talks about it either."

Hermione decided that one day she'd write a large volume on the history of that time so that future generations and the present ones would know it. She thought she'd ask the Head to help her but the Head had only gazed down at her with that steely look she gave everyone and told her that nobility now-a-days wouldn't have it and it was best left alone.

This didn't really satisfy the young girl but she didn't really understand the whole situation of the land. There were obvious things, like the processing of strange births, and all that but she figured that if the people hadn't revolted yet, it must be because whoever was in charge was doing a fairly decent job.

But then, if someone lives in a very large house surrounded by large gardens and forest, far from the outside world, they tend not to see the outside world.

Hermione really didn't like the 'processing'. It wasn't even called that in the Granger household. It was usually euphemized down to something like, "Did Cousin Carol have her baby yesterday?" "Oh yes, but it didn't quite make it." "Ah."

"I think it's unfair. Nature is full of anomalies." Hermione protested once. "After all, trees don't look exactly the same. They branch out differently."

"Yes, dear, I know." Her mother had nodded absent-mindedly. Hermione's parents were not really _bad _parents, but they weren't necessarily _good _parents either. Scholars have a tendency to be wrapped up in their own studies and forget about the outside world. Hermione's parents had always figured that since Hermione had plenty of her own studies and had never been a problem child, that she would be perfectly fine left to her own devices. Plus, once a week, they met for tea, which one or more of them were usually reading a book during, so it didn't really make much of a difference.

Also, her parents had figured that one couldn't possibly get lonely in the Granger household. Hermione had forty-six first cousins, and twenty-three of those were at or around her own age. And that was just the first cousins.

But Hermione did feel lonely sometimes. The other kids her age around the house didn't seem to enjoy studying. She would look out the window of her study and see them playing a game of Blind Man's Bluff and thinking wistfully of what it would be like to join them. Anytime she tried to spend time with the other people her age, they weren't very nice to her. Usually they called her stuck-up for not coming out and playing with them sooner.

"It's the Head's precious pet!" One of her second cousins taunted. "Should we bow?"

She had wisely decided to stay in her study after that.

Her schedule day after day was the same, with small variations that weren't usually worth mentioning. She would wake up in the morning, get dressed, tie her hair back with a blue ribbon (even though this was usually not much help as her hair was very bushy and usually got worse when she brushed it), and then go downstairs for breakfast. There were three dining rooms, each one designated for different age groups. The children all sat in one, until they were fifteen, and then they got to sit in the second dining room which was for the adults, and then the third was where the Head and all the most important or well-learned members got to sit. Tradition had been snapped in two when on her twelfth birthday Hermione had been taken from the children's dining room and given a seat at the Head's table.

On this particular day, Hermione passed one of her first cousins (Hermione was an only child) on her way to the large doors that one had to go through to get to the Head's dining room.

"Hello Jill." Hermione greeted her cousin brightly. She had always rather liked Jill, who always seemed to be studying or, if she met Hermione in the library, would ask what Hermione was doing and how far she was on that, and a few other questions.

"Hello Hermione." Jill spoke in a cool voice. Hermione went through the doors and didn't notice that her cousin had stopped to glare at her back. What Hermione did not know was that Jill _hated _Hermione.

Technically, it wasn't Hermione's fault but Jill couldn't help but hate her. Every time Jill did something, it didn't matter because Hermione had already done it and in a way that was five times better than the way Jill had done it. Her own parents kept telling her to be more like Hermione and Jill was so sick of the way that Hermione got so many special privileges that she could scream.

At first she had liked Hermione. When she was seven, she was in classes with Hermione, who had already had her own private study for two years so she wasn't as excited as Jill had been. Hermione had quickly become the head of the class and Jill was always lagging right behind her, trying desperately to either be on the same level or pull ahead of her accomplished cousin. But then Hermione had gotten so far ahead of the class that the teacher discussed the idea with the Head that Hermione should be allowed to go into her own studies. Jill would have to wait until she was fifteen to get out of classes. Every time Hermione did something that made others talk about what a true Granger she was, Jill felt like Hermione had only done it so that she could rub Jill's face in the matter.

_One day, I'll be better than you, Hermione. _

Jill turned on her heel and walked off in the opposite direction. Hermione had not noticed that at all as she was to busy greeting the people at the Head's table. There was Great Aunt Michelle, who was so absent-minded that she could never remember anyone's name and often called people by the wrong one altogether; Great Uncle Henry, who would rattle on and on about logic and brought the concept of Logic into absolutely _everything_ ("Therefore, logically, I should put pepper on my eggs."); Cousin Jane, who was twenty-nine and so was always being told by others that she needed to marry someone but Jane had an unfortunate habit of always sucking on peppermint sticks, even at mealtimes; the Head, who barely ever spoke and when she did, all the chatter among the people at the table would stop abruptly so that everyone could hear, and who no spoke to unless spoken to—except Great Aunt Michelle who usually forgot who the Head _was_. Plus a great many other eccentric aunts, uncles, and cousins. Hermione's own parents didn't even have seats at the Head's table.

"Good morning everyone." Hermione smiled at the family members, some of who greeted her and some of who only waved because their mouths were full. The Head gestured towards Hermione's seat and the twelve-year-old girl sat down and started helping herself to the trays of food on the table.

"Janie, dear," began Aunt Alice, who was spreading marmalade on a piece of toast and using the knife to gesture. Jane looked up, a peppermint stick sticking out of the corner of her mouth. "I saw you talking to that nice young man who delivers the milk, what's his name?"

"Adam." Great Aunt Michelle named off immediately.

"You don't even know my name and we've been sitting across each other like this for twenty-five years, so logically, his name isn't Adam." Great Uncle Henry retorted.

"It's Robert." Jane took the peppermint stick out of her mouth. "You're thinking of my cousin Adam, Auntie Michelle."

"Oh, oh that might have been it…" Michelle nodded to herself. "Anyways, go on Alyssa."

"Alice." Alice corrected her. "Anyways, I saw you speaking to that nice Robert. He's a fine chap, isn't he?"

"Little 'Mione, could you pass the butter?" Her second Cousin Benjamin, who was recently a tutor to the Lestrange Family before he was let go because the child died. Benjamin was alright but seemed to always be trying to get revenge for the fact that everyone called him 'Ben' and so called everyone by shortened versions of their names. Hermione passed him the butter.

"He wanted to know if I had a peppermint stick to spare." Jane shrugged her shoulders before pushing up her thick glasses that magnified her eyes. "I did, so I gave him one."

"So you have similar tastes." Alice beamed. "Well that's just fantastic, because I was thinking that you could—"

"Delivery boys do not make good scholars." The Head said shortly and Alice drooped a bit.

"You mustn't be so hard on Elaine." Michelle told the Head in a wandering voice.

"Alice." Alice looked a bit peeved. "It was only a suggestion, Jane would make a wonderful mother and it's high time that she got married."

"Grandmother says I don't have to get married if I don't want to." Jane pushed her plate of half eaten food away. "And I don't want to."

"Logically—" Henry began but was cut off.

"Oh Harry, we don't need anymore logic today." Michelle gave him an annoyed look. "You'll prattle all day long about it. Let's not have any logic at breakfast."

"No logic at breakfast! My dear woman—" Henry looked terribly affronted.

"Now, no one needs to fight, now do we?" Hermione's old cousin Marlowe, who was about sixty broke in. He was terribly patient and always saying that others didn't take the time to see things anymore. "Let's just have a calm breakfast. Alice, its Jane's own business if she wants to get married. Michelle, do try to learn some names, and Henry, you know you can get a bit carried away sometimes." Marlowe had a very calm voice that instantly made everyone go back to their breakfast.

"Hermione." The Head addressed the young girl who sat up sharply. "What are your plans for the day?"

"Well, I was just finishing up a book on the travels of Farold Granger." Hermione piped up. "And then I was going to start a new book on various flowers and plants that you can find in the forest surrounding us. I was even thinking of going out and collecting examples as well."

"Keeping busy then." The Head nodded her approval. "Good. When you finish your breakfast, you can go."

The rest of breakfast was spent in a debate about whether or not a werewolf could possibly exist and if so, how, which Hermione left during, but before she went, she saw Henry trying to make a logical argument and using a butter dish to prove his point.

Sometimes she thought that though they were all brilliant, they were also a little bit crazy as well. Hermione couldn't believe they were talking about _werewolves _of all things. She didn't believe in anything like that. In fact, the book she was reading on the travels of Farold Granger had caused her a bit of eye rolling when she got to the part of the Snowlands to the North. He was talking about ice fairies.

"Superstitious nonsense." Hermione had muttered.

But now that she was finished, she could get to a far more sensible text on the properties of plants and flowers found in that area. When she looked out the window to see that it was overcast, but didn't quite feel like rain, she decided it might be the perfect day to engage in a nice walk into the woods. She gathered up the book, some papers, a quill, and two jars of ink into a bag, before getting her black overcoat and heading outside.

As she walked and read (which she was very experienced in), she kept clear of the other kids her age, who were all moaning as they went off to classes, and went around several hedges before having to walk down a well worn path, to a bridge, that crossed a small stream, and then, a little bit more into the woods.

"Now, let's see," She flipped a few pages in to an illustration of a certain kind of flower which was supposed to make a very calming tea of used properly. Why, she could make a wonderful little display board for any specimens she collected. She could pin the plants down and make lovely little labels for each one, and then mount it in a frame with a large pane of glass over it—it made her feel excited to embark on that project. Then she could put it on her wall in her study and others could use it as well.

But she was momentarily distracted when she heard some voices and a spitting, hissing noise that made her look up from her book. A little bit into the woods, a group of younger cousins, who were no doubt skiving off classes standing there, taunting something and throwing stones at whatever it was.

Hermione marched over in an authoritative manner, knowing that they were obviously doing something wrong. She saw as she approached that the thing was a large ginger-colored cat, with a slightly squashed looking face. Its back was arched and it was hissing furiously at the boys who kept throwing stones at it.

"You boys!" Hermione's voice made the five boys turn and see who it was. "You leave that cat alone! It didn't do anything to you! I bet you're all supposed to be in classes too."

"It's Hermione! Run for it!" One boy yelled and they all took off, out of the woods. Hermione pursed her lips for a moment as she watched them.

_"It's Hermione!"? _

_ What am I, some sort of monster?_

Her attention went back to the cat who was regarding her rather warily. Hermione dropped down to her knees and looked back at the cat.

"Hello." Hermione said after a moment, though she wasn't really sure why. It's not as though the cat could talk or understand a single word she said. "I'm Hermione Granger and I'm sorry if those boys were mean to you."

The cat took a step forward, and then another. Before she realized it, the cat had jumped into her arms. Hermione stood up, holding the bundle of thick ginger-colored fur in her arms rather securely.

"You're a nice cat, aren't you?" Hermione beamed at it. "Those boys were mean. You seem quite nice to me." The cat then jumped out of her arms and turned to look at Hermione very hard before walking about ten feet away and then pausing and looking very hard at the bushy-haired girl.

_Does it…want me to follow it?_

She had never encountered such strange behavior in an animal before. There were a few pets around the Granger household, but mostly they were small things that wouldn't wander about, like mice or birds.

Hermione took a hesitant step forward and the cat went forward a little further, and so she kept going. Soon she found that the cat was leading her deeper and deeper into the woods.

"I do hope you know the way back." Hermione realized that she didn't really know how far in she was. The cat took no notice of this and they kept going. Hermione tripped over a tree root and the cat seemed impatient as she pulled herself up and brushed herself off.

_Oh, really! I'm the one who fell._

"What should I call you?" Hermione pondered. "I mean, there are all sorts of names I could give you. How about Ginger?" She suggested, thinking about the cat's coloring. "But that seems so ordinary, doesn't it? I bet you think I'm a little strange, talking to you like this but I don't talk to very many people and you're a very good listener. You don't ever interrupt." She giggled a bit. "Maybe I'll call you 'Mione. That's what Cousin Benjamin calls me and it's ever so annoying. Help me out a bit, cat. What should your name be?" She noticed that the cat was sitting perfectly still and she looked around curiously. She didn't see anything. Why had the cat led her here?

_This is what I get for following a cat around…_

"The cat's name is 'Crookshanks'." A deep male voice told her.

"Crookshanks, now that's a perfect name!" Hermione clapped her hands together and then froze. She turned very slowly to see who had spoken and her mouth went into a little 'o' of surprise.

The man who had spoken wasn't a man at all. He looked like a man from the waist up but from the waist down, he had the body of a horse. Four legs, a tail, everything. Hermione had never seen anything like that.

"He barely ever brings company. I'm Firenze." The half-man, half-horse introduced himself. Hermione did a very un-sensible thing right then.

She fainted.

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To Be Continued

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	2. Part the Second

Keep on reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters.

Warnings: Not really that many…

Note: Pyromancy is mentioned in this—which of course is divination by fire.

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Heretic

Part the Second

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When Hermione's eyes opened, she was looking up at the sky through the trees. Then a furry orange face filled her field of vision. She nearly had a heart attack but she quickly realized that it was only the cat.

"Crookshanks!" She exclaimed and pushed the cat off her chest, sitting up. Then she looked up and promptly felt like fainting again.

Firenze was still there, standing there, looking as though there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. One of his hooves pawed the ground and Hermione could tell he was waiting for her to stand up again. She stood up as slowly as possible. Logically, she told herself, she had no reason to think that Firenze would hurt her, but at the same time, she absolutely no experience dealing with half-horse, half-men.

She knew she was staring and it was impolite but right then, Hermione was not terribly concerned with being polite. She decided that she should do something practical, so she brushed the leaves off of her and removed one from her bushy hair, smoothed it to the best of her ability, and straightened her clothes.

Now it was time to go back to staring.

"Are you alright?" Firenze asked kindly.

"Er, yes, I think so." Hermione was sure she wasn't injured but she reminded herself that after receiving such a shock, it was likely that her body might only _think _she didn't have injuries. She had read all about this phenomenon before.

_Now is not the time to be analyzing things Hermione! Now is the time to be doing something!_

However, Hermione was a Scholar first and foremost. Not a fighter, not a person ready to run for it at a moment's notice. And her natural curiosity caught up with her. She had to know. She had to know what Firenze was and where he had come from. How did he know Crookshanks? Where had Crookshanks come from? Questions and answers, that's what she knew best.

"Um…would it be impolite to ask what exactly…what exactly you are?" Hermione spoke hesitantly.

"I'm a centaur." Firenze replied, still looking as though this was the most ordinary thing in the world. Her, standing there, talking to a…a _centaur_. Whatever that was. The problem was that Hermione's mind had a tendency to shut down anytime a book started talking about magic or creatures that couldn't possible exist. This was one of those creatures that her mind had shut out—but it was right there in front of her.

"Oh. Of course." Hermione nodded, not really because she believed what she said, but because she had no other reaction. Noticing a stump, she took a seat. She opened her bag and took out a piece of parchment and a quill. She carefully put an inkwell next to her. "Could you please spell that?" He spelled it out for her and she carefully began to take notes. "Now, where did you come from?"

"Here." Firenze gestured around the forest. "I've always been here."

"Always?" Hermione lifted her gaze from her note taking. "Since the world began?"

"Not quite that long." Firenze shook his head. "I've been here for a very long time though. Since far before you were born."

"Ah." Hermione made a little note of 'before I was born' with a satisfying little scratching noise of the quill. "How come I've never seen one of you before? Neither has anyone else I know—although perhaps some of my ancestors have—there's many books in our library."

"We're not welcome by humans." Firenze sounded gloomy.

"Why not? Are you…well, you aren't violent, are you?" Hermione questioned with a slightly apprehensive air.

"Aren't humans violent?" Firenze's head tilted a little to one side.

"We are." Hermione thought about some of the wars she had read about. "But I think as a species we get very protective from others trying to hurt us. Like when a village goes and hunts down a wolf for killing sheep."

"So it is acceptable for a man to kill another man, but it would not be acceptable for a centaur to kill a man?" Firenze inquired with a knowing smile tilting his lips upwards. Hermione frowned at her piece of parchment.

"Well…you have a point." Hermione stopped to think, resting her elbow on her knee, the parchment still in her lap, and her chin in her palm, this caused her fingers, which had ink on them, to smear against her cheek—not that she ever really noticed anymore, she almost always smeared ink on her face. She tapped the quill on the paper with her other hand. "Why don't humans like you then?"

"When the last king died, the Dark Lord who took his place wanted us all killed." Firenze spoke solemnly and Hermione peeked up, her back straightening when she heard those words.

"The last king?" Hermione brightened. "Do you mean, you know all about when that happened? And what was going on?"

"I don't know everything there is to know. We centaurs knew that a time of darkness was coming to the land." Firenze gazed up at the sky. "The stars told us."

"There are more of you?" Hermione leaned forward eagerly. "Do you all live in this forest?"

"Not all." Firenze shook his head. "And there are not so many of us as there once was, so many have been slain."

"That's terrible…" Hermione trailed off. "Why don't you fight back?"

"We do not fight. This war is between men and it will only be resolved by men." Firenze did not as satisfied with this answer as he probably wanted to make Hermione think. "We have always watched the skies and the fires for signs of the future."

"I've heard of that!" Hermione jumped in. "Pyromancy, oooh, and I thought my ancestor was just being silly when they talked about people seeing signs in the fire but maybe there _is _something to it…"

"Humans are rarely any good at it." Firenze looked almost offended at the suggestion that this was an easily learned skill. "It takes years of study to see anything at all."

"I just don't understand why you don't fight though." Hermione looked thoughtfully up at the trees. "I mean, you can't keep your head in the future when bad things are happening here and now."

"Do you not keep your head in books while bad things are happening here and now?" Firenze's question made Hermione freeze.

She had of course always known that bad things had happened in the past—that the Granger family, no matter how unaffected they appeared to be, were still reluctant to talk about what had happened during the war or when the autocracy with the Dark Lord at its head took over and all the following horrors that were unleashed on the land. Bad things _were_ happening at that very moment, but she was all shut away from it, only living her life in paper and ink.

"H-how did you know what I do?" Hermione asked, feeling a little startled.

"I knew we would meet today." Firenze answered simply. "I saw it in the stars. That you would come. I've had visions of you before."

"Really?" Hermione felt a little embarrassed. "They can't have been very interesting ones…"

"In the flames I saw you being taunted by other children, and that you had no where to go but to your study, to shut yourself up with the only companions who have ever welcomed you with open arms." Firenze said this is a calm voice but Hermione felt something squeeze at her chest. Her books were her only companions, the only ones who completely accepted her.

_And I always told myself it was better this way…_

_ That studying was the most important thing…I shouldn't get distracted…_

_ But something feels like it's missing. _

"Your parents cannot see beyond their own rooms, they have never embraced you, because you are all strangers. You shut your ears to the insults and the way that others avoid you—they do this to spite you, they do this because they are intimidated, jealous, frightened by you. But you are doomed to become like your parents unless you grow beyond what they have become. Unless you see the outside world…" Firenze prophetic tones were ringing in her ears and Hermione thought that it was beginning to rain, because a drop of water had fallen on her paper.

Then her hand delicately moved to her face and she realized that it wasn't a raindrop but a tear. As she pulled her hand away, she saw there was another shining on the end of her finger.

Something rubbed against her leg and she looked down dazedly to see Crookshanks there, purring loudly. She put aside her paper and Crookshanks jumped up in her lap. She scratched behind his ears fondly.

"You're a wonderful cat, aren't you Crookshanks?" Hermione smiled down at the ginger colored feline.

"Crookshanks isn't a cat." Firenze caused Hermione to look up. "Crookshanks is half Kneazle."

"What's a Kneazle?" Hermione questioned.

"Something like a cat." Firenze answered vaguely. "That's the best way to put it so you'll understand. They're very intelligent creatures and it seems that Crookshanks likes you."

"I've never had a pet before." Hermione said cheerfully. "He'll be my first cat." Crookshanks sharp claws sank into her arms. "Ow! Crookshanks!" Firenze only laughed at this.

"I think Crookshanks resents being thought of as _your _cat. You might as well say you're Crookshanks' human." Firenze had a very pleasant smile, Hermione thought. There was something almost fatherly about it. Not like her father, but how she thought other people's fathers probably smiled.

"That's just silly." Hermione folded her arms. Then she jumped up, sending Crookshanks to the ground with a yowl. "Oh, sorry Crookshanks—but it'll be tea time soon! I've been out in the woods for a long time—somebody will be wondering what happened to me."

"You and Crookshanks should come again." Firenze told her.

"Will you tell me more about the time that the Dark Lord took over? I want to write a history about it." Hermione asked eagerly. "And I want to know more about Kneazles and cats and centaurs, and oh, whatever else you can think of!"

"I would be happy to share my knowledge with you." Firenze bowed his head. "The other centaurs feel that we should tell the humans nothing, but you are so young and I have always wanted to share wisdom with those who come seeking it."

"I'll bring lots more paper next time." Hermione made sure to put everything in her bag. "Can I come tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course." Firenze nodded.

"Alright then, I will. Good-bye!" Hermione waved and then looked down at Crookshanks who looked a bit miffed about her dropping him. "Please Crookshanks, you're the only one of us who remembers the way back."

There was a moment where Crookshanks didn't look like he'd comply but then he got up and started walking away. Hermione waved one last time and then followed Crookshanks back through the forest.

"We've really got to hurry!" Hermione informed the cat. "If we want to make it by tea-time and Grandmother _hates _it when people are late."

The cat ran ahead and Hermione had to run very fast to keep up with it, as they dashed over fallen trees and through ferns. When they finally reached the end of the woods, where the grounds around the Granger House started, Hermione's cheeks were completely flushed and she tried to catch her breath for a few moments while Crookshanks impatiently waited.

A few moments later, she scooped him up in her arms and walked back to the house. The bell for tea time rang when she got inside. She dropped Crookshanks off at her study.

"I'll be back in a bit." Hermione pet him on the head. "I'm sure you can manage on your own in here—try not to make a mess." Crookshanks jumped onto her chair and settled down for a nap almost instantly.

The brunette scrambled off to tea time, arriving in the middle of Jane arguing with Benjamin about nicknames and how she shouldn't have any because her name was short enough as it is. (Though Alice pointed out that people called her Janie an awful lot—but it was a lot better than what Benjamin was calling her. ("'Ane")

Hermione wondered how they could all go through tea time so normally when she had just met a real honest to goodness centaur but then they didn't know, and they didn't pay attention to her excitement, which made her hands shake.

_I'm going to learn it all and write it down and tell everyone…_

_ That's what a Granger should do—find out everything they can about it!_

_

* * *

_

Over the next few days, Hermione felt like her whole life had been turned upside down. Crookshanks was now her constant companion. Though she couldn't bring him along to meals, he followed her everywhere and she put a red collar on him with his name engraved in it. ("So no one thinks you're a stray and tries to be mean to you again." She explained.) Crookshanks had not been wild about the collar but seemed to grow used to it. Maybe the cat knew instinctively that Hermione was only trying to protect it from harm.

He slept in her bed, curled up against her, which was a nice comfort, besides the fact that he was so warm. She'd wake up in the morning and try to brush her hair before tying red ribbons in it—to match Crookshanks of course. She'd go to breakfast, steal sausages from the table, and then give them to Crookshanks.

She could also talk to him. She could tell him about anything. Hermione began to talk about anything and say anything out loud; feeling like Crookshanks could really hear her. ("You are part Kneazle, maybe you can understand me." Hermione observed.)

Every day though, after breakfast, Hermione would gather up her things in a bag and Crookshanks would lead her through the woods to their meeting spot with Firenze, who began to tell them all about the war as he knew it.

That a group known as the Death Eaters had begun attacking people and no one could figure out who they were because they wore black masks. They delighted in torturing and killing others. They were led by a very powerful wizard—

"A wizard?" Hermione had interrupted the story when Firenze was telling it. "You mean…like magic?"

"Don't you know what magic is?" Firenze looked surprised and Hermione had no idea why.

"Well, I've heard about it." Hermione took a deep breath. "But it isn't actually _real _and even if it was, nobody can do it anymore…" She saw the knowing look on Firenze's face. "Unless…there really is…magic." She saw that this was correct and that she had been wrong. "Oh, bother."

"Magic is very real." Firenze gestured at Crookshanks who was batting at an insect as it made its way across the forest floor. "Crookshanks is a half-magical creature."

"But if there _is _magic and people still use it, then how come I've never heard of anyone using it?" Hermione asked logically.

"That's because it has been outlawed." Firenze explained. "Isn't it called 'processing'?"

"Is _that _what they're looking for!" Hermione gasped. "But I always thought by strange births they meant something like deformities or mutations, or something like twins."

"Those things are looked into as well, but the Dark Lord declared that no one shall learn magic—though from the signs we know that those in power still learn it." Firenze had a troubled look to him. "They know all about the magical creatures in the land. And they know about my people as well." Hermione almost pointed out that Firenze _was_ a magical creature but decided that it would probably be rude and she didn't want to offend him.

"How can they possibly catch them all?" Hermione questioned. "I mean, how do they know that they've killed all the babies with magic?"

"They don't." Firenze gave her a very significant look that confused her greatly.

The tale of the war continued. A wizard by the name of Voldemort, who became the Dark Lord or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (for some superstition had it that if you spoke his name, his attention would come to settle on you) led this band of terrorists as they killed and strengthened in numbers. The Royal Guard couldn't stop them. The only wizard who had the power to stand up to Voldemort was a great man named Albus Dumbledore who gathered together those who wished to oppose Voldemort but, at the last minute, before the attack on the capitol and the murder of the King, something happened to Dumbledore.

"What?" Hermione broke into the story again.

"No one knows." Firenze shrugged. "He just disappeared and it couldn't have been at a worse time either. The attack went through and the new leaders were named."

"But no one just disappears, especially someone important like that." Hermione insisted. "Surely, someone has to know _something_…"

"It might be that the only man who knows that is Dumbledore himself." Firenze said in his usual slow, wise way.

"But he's dead now, isn't he?" Hermione questioned.

"There are rumors that he is not dead, that he is rallying people together once more, to help defeat Voldemort." Firenze's eyes did the usual flick towards the sky. Hermione knew he wished that it was night time so he could gaze at the stars. "The stars are waiting, waiting for someone to come…"

"Who?" Hermione inquired.

"That knowledge I cannot share with you." Firenze put a hand on top of her head. "But the reason that the Dark Lord has those who can perform magic killed has much to do with a prophecy that was uttered many years ago."

"A prophecy?" Hermione repeated.

"A prophecy that proclaims one will be born who can defeat him and he shall be born as the seventh month dies…" Firenze had a faraway look in his eyes.

"A baby born in July?" Hermione spoke as she scratched that down on the piece of paper she had on her lap. "So why does he kill the children born in during any other month?"

"Because he wishes to be sure." Firenze's answer made him seem all that more ancient and distant. "What humans do not understand is that Fate is not something you can deceive or bend to your will, it will always go as it is supposed to. His rein of power has gone on too long, but it will end, as all things end."

Hermione wondered if Firenze was right, if all things really did end…because that meant that everything, even the good things, eventually were no more.

_If it is always changing, how do we know when it will go from bad to peaceful times, and then back again?_

_

* * *

_

Jill Granger was the only person who really noticed that Hermione was not spending her days in her study. Most unusual. She watched the bushy-haired girl as she walked towards the woods one morning, a ginger-colored cat walking ahead of her. How odd.

_What could little Miss Perfect possibly be doing day after day?_

She sincerely hoped it was something bad. She would just love to see Hermione get punished for something. Now, there had to be a way to find out. Hermione was probably very trusting—probably didn't lock the door to her own study.

Jill carefully made her way down the hall to where Hermione's study was and looked around fervently. Getting caught poking around somebody's private study was looked down upon. She closed the door behind her and looked around. Hermione's study was a lot bigger than her own. (This was actually not true but Jill thought it was.)

There were papers and books and inkwells and quills everywhere, it looked just like every other study, but there had to be _something_.

She walked over and began shuffling through the papers. A word caught her eye and she sat down in the chair that Hermione had always hunched over her work in and read carefully.

_Magic, something I have always believed to be a fairytale is apparently a real and true thing. Firenze informed me that a wizard or witch could only use magic through the means of a wand—a thin piece of wood. When I asked why, he said it was because magic was very hard to focus and that these "wands" could concentrate the magic. Usually, the wand must also be accompanied with words to form a spell. I do not know how magic factors into animals, such as Crookshanks. If they possess magical abilities, why don't they have wands? If only there was some way to experiment!_

Jill's mouth hung open. Hermione Granger, pride of the entire Granger family was writing about magic like it was real! And animals having it too! Fancy that! She gave a wicked laugh of delight when she realized that these papers were just what she was looking for.

Clearly Hermione had studied too hard and too fast and her mind had simply cracked. Why, Jill wouldn't be surprised to find out that this Firenze character wasn't actually real. Just a figment of an overworked mind's imagination.

"It's too good!" Jill gathered up the other papers, seeing that they were all written about the same things. "Magic and divination and a prophecy! Why, when everyone finds out that she's crazy, she'll be laughed at for sure! See how she likes that." Jill's head was filled with grand visions of everyone realizing that Hermione was a fraud and that Jill was the truly great one of the two.

Jill would be held up higher than her cousin, she would get a special seat at the Head's table, and she would be the next in line for that position. A small voice in her head asked what exactly Hermione had done—and why Jill had to show all these papers to people. It was well known that many of the Granger household members were a bit odd—Great Aunt Michelle had once been convinced that little creatures were hiding in the bathtub, waiting to get her—but there was no need to make a great fuss about it.

_Ah yes, Jill, put the papers down, be a good girl with your head down and let Hermione pretend to be perfect._

With a stubborn twist to her mouth, she rushed out of the study. She wouldn't allow this any longer. It just wasn't fair!

The Head and several other members of the family were gathered around a table in the library where they all seemed to be looking over some documents. Jill approached them, clearing her throat loudly but only one or two even bothered looking up.

"Look here!" Jill stamped her foot and the Head looked at her with such an awful glare that Jill almost apologized. "S-see what I've got! Hermione's gone mad!"

"What nonsense are you spewing?" The Head arched her eyebrows and Jill held out the papers, which the family members took. Some stopped to read them and some just passed them directly to the Head. There were gasps and looks of shock and horror on some of their faces.

"See, it's like I said!" Jill felt very self-satisfied. "Hermione's—"

"It is forbidden to write of such things!" Aunt Harriet stood up. "Hermione's really gone and done it this time—"

"What are we going to do Grandmother?" Aunt Alice's eyes were as wide as they could possibly go.

"Now, now, I believe Hermione didn't mean any harm." Great Aunt Michelle stated and Henry gasped in amazement.

"She got her name right!" Henry stage whispered to the other people at the table.

"This is very serious; Hermione must be found and brought to me at once!" The Head stood up, ordering the others.

"This isn't just something you can slap her on the wrist about!" Cousin Stan, who was very big on the law protested.

"Now, Stan," Aunt Alice began but he cut her off.

"Don't you patronize me! I won't stand for this, do you hear me? The law must be obeyed!" Stan turned and rushed out of the room.

"Oh I hope Scott doesn't do anything silly." Michelle rested a hand on her cheek in a dreamy sort of way.

"I better go after him." Jane stood up, peppermint stick stuck in her cheek. "He might do something really awful…" She went after him.

"He probably went to tell the Guard." Harriet looked self-righteous. Stan was her son.

"The Guard!" The Head's nostrils flared. "Just what does he think he's going to do? Jane better bring him back here. We'll deal with Hermione ourselves." Jill stood there, looking forgotten.

The Guard. Forbidden things. Was this more than she thought might happen? Was Hermione really going to get in serious trouble? Jill didn't want to be in the library anymore. She suddenly wished she hadn't done anything at all. Hermione had never been spiteful to her, she had just imagined that all. And now she had ruined Hermione's life.

_You…you get what you deserve!_

Jill fled the room.

* * *

To Be Continued

* * *


	3. Part the Third

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Hmm…not really sure what to warn about.

* * *

Heretic

Part the Third

* * *

When Hermione returned with Crookshanks, she was in a wonderful mood. Firenze had begun telling her about some of the other magical creatures that she had heard about. She was amazed to hear that nixies—the ice fairies she had read about in that book of travels that Farold Granger had written—were actually real.

"The Snowlands, can you believe it? Apparently it's all snow." Hermione chirped happily to Crookshanks who hissed as her Cousin Jill ran by. Hermione turned and watched her go. "Now that's odd…I wonder what's wrong with Jill. Oh Crookshanks, why are you hissing like that?"

But as soon as Jill was out of sight, Crookshanks calmed down. Hermione shook her head and went towards her study but Marlowe Granger caught sight of her and called out to her.

"Hermione." His calming voice held an undercurrent of worry that made Hermione instantly concerned. "The Head wants to see you right away."

"Why?" Hermione blinked in confusion.

"I don't want to say…" Marlowe hung his head. "I'm sure you can clear up the misunderstanding here…"

"HERMIONE!" Jane yelled down the hall as she came running up, completely out of breath, no peppermint stick in her mouth.

"Did you catch Stan?" Marlowe asked worriedly.

"No, he was too fast and I think he's gone to get the Guard." Jane's brow furrowed. "He got on one of the horses, we better hurry and see what the Head says."

"What's going on?" Hermione asked again, Crookshanks had leapt into her arms and she had caught him without even thinking. "Did something happen? Why has Cousin Stan gone off to get the Guard?"

"Your papers Hermione!" Jane waved her arms around before shoving a peppermint stick into her mouth. "You wrote all those things and everyone _knows_…"

"Knows what?" Hermione felt just as bewildered as ever. "What's going on!"

"You've got to come and see the Head now." Marlowe put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, before there's a big scene. She'll sort everything out, it'll all be fine."

"That's what you say!" Jane shook her head in disbelief. "I've never seen the Head so angry." She sucked hard on the peppermint stick to prevent drool going all over the place.

"Why's Grandmother angry?" Hermione let herself be ushered by the two towards the main meeting room. Whenever the Head needed to address the whole family, this is where she addressed them. Hermione had always loved the large polished doors that led into it but for once, she had a terrible feeling in her gut that something awful was waiting for her.

When they got into the room, all the most important people in the family were there, the Head was white with anger, and even Hermione's parents were there, looking twittery and unhappy.

"Hermione." The Head spoke the name so that it sliced through the air. "Come here." Hermione felt as though she couldn't work her legs right then but with Crookshanks purring reassuringly, she found herself walking forward. What was it? What had she done? What was going on?

"What is it Grandmother?" Hermione asked, looking around at all the faces.

"Most inconvenient, really…" Her mother was fidgeting with her hands and her father was playing with a pocket watch. "I must protest…why should we be here…?"

"These." The Head held up Hermione's hand-written notes and she gasped. So that was it. They had found her notes, but how could that be? They were in her study!

"Those were in my study!" Hermione looked around angrily. "Who took them? Who went in there?"

"You won't be asking the questions." The Head silenced her immediately and her eyes went down to the large furry cat in her arms. "Get rid of that cat." Hermione tried to obey but Crookshanks sank his claws into her coat and she couldn't get him to budge.

"I can't, he doesn't want to leave." Hermione shook her head.

"He's just a dumb cat." Benjamin muttered.

"He is not!" Hermione couldn't believe how she was acting. She would do better to stand there and listen to what the others said. She should have put Crookshanks down…but…but…

_But I don't want to!_

"You're the dumb one Mr. Benjamin Granger!" Hermione held on protectively to Crookshanks. "This cat is the most intelligent friend I've ever had and if he has to leave the room then so will I!" The other Grangers in the room looked stunned and their eyes were the size of saucers. Hermione, who had always been so well-behaved was acting so willfully! And in front of the Head no less!

"You realize what you've done?" The Head threw the papers down on the floor. "It is forbidden to learn about these things, forbidden to write them down, and the law is quite clear on how to punish those who break the law!"

"It shouldn't be forbidden!" Hermione stuck out her chin. She remembered what Firenze had said, about how they all hid in their books and let the world go on. She couldn't do that anymore. She wanted to change things. "It isn't right! We can't sit here and let someone tell us what we can think and right! We have to stand up for ourselves! Do you want someone telling you how to live?"

"I won't be spoken to like that young lady." The Head's eyes narrowed to a glare. "Are you suggesting that we act in cowardice?"

"That's right!" Hermione nodded. "We're all…we're all cowards! And I'll write about whatever I want, no one can say otherwise!"

"We're trying to save you Hermione." The Head nodded her head towards Benjamin who lit a fire. "We're going to burn all these documents, we're going to lie and say that none of this never happened, and you will keep your mouth shut and _accept the punishment we give you_."

Jane and Benjamin went to pick the documents up off the floor but Crookshanks leapt out of Hermione's arms and landed on the papers, hissing and spitting wildly.

"That stupid cat can go into the fire too for all I care." Benjamin started towards it.

"_No_!" Hermione fell forward, clasping her arms around Crookshanks. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare hurt Crookshanks! And don't you dare burn any of those papers. They're full of knowledge, and we're supposed to be collectors of knowledge. We can't just let this go on!"

_"But you are doomed to become like your parents unless you grow beyond what they have become. Unless you see the outside world…"_

"Get up!" The Head ordered her and Hermione almost obeyed but she knew that survival wasn't the important thing. That sitting back and letting the world go on wasn't right.

Benjamin picked up her by her arms and Hermione fought, kicking at him every inch of the way. He handed her off to another cousin and tried to go at Crookshanks but the cat only scratched him and stood there on the papers with his back arched, hissing at them all.

_Oh Crookshanks…you're doing so well…I've got to help you!_

Hermione made herself limp for a moment so that the cousin who was holding her would get a false sense of security and she suddenly twisted and kicked him in the knee. He let go of her, swearing and she scooped up Crookshanks and the papers, her arms full.

The doors burst open.

Three members of the Guard filed in behind Cousin Stan, Hermione knew that now there really was no going back. There were the papers, she had written about what was forbidden. The penalty was death.

But no one had ever said it was forbidden…

_Forbidden knowledge is the best kind._

One of the members of the Guard grabbed a stray piece of paper that she hadn't gotten a hold of and read it.

"I see…" He looked at her with a hateful expression. "A witch."

"I'm not a witch!" Hermione stamped her foot defensively. "I can't use magic! I've only been writing about it and there's no harm in that!"

"She must be a witch sir, she's writing about magic and she's got a familiar." Another member of the Guard pointed out.

"Kill that cat." The first member, who was obviously the superior in rank to the other two, made a dismissive gesture. Hermione's arms squeezed Crookshanks one last time before dropping him on the ground.

"RUN CROOKSHANKS!" She yelled. Crookshanks didn't stop to look at her and took off, running between legs too fast to catch. The second member of the Guard cuffed her across the face hard enough that she almost fell over. A trickle of blood came out of the corner of her mouth and she quickly wiped it away. It was just another ink stain.

_At least Crookshanks got away…he didn't deserve to die._

"She's a witch." The third member of the Guard agreed with the other two. "We better hunt that animal down after we finish with her."

"I'm not a witch!" Hermione snapped at them. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You don't have any proof!"

"Er, if this would just end a little faster…I have some books I must attend to…" Her mother spoke in her usual nervous, distracted matter.

"Mother!" Hermione turned towards her. "They're accusing me of being a witch, I'm going to be taken away, and _you want this to hurry up_?"

"Well, you are a witch." Her father answered in a very blunt way. Her mouth dropped open. She hadn't been expecting this. Not at all. But then in a moment, it all made sense. Her being a witch.

But her parents had just declared her one and now she was doomed. How could they? How could they? And finally, Hermione saw what others saw, that in a household where the most prized possession was intelligence, the other things, the other important things had been sacrificed. Courage, loyalty…the things that every person should have. And her parents were the best examples of the Granger family that ever were. Too caught up in studying and reading to be bothered by anything else in the world.

_"…they have never embraced you, because you are all strangers."_

"What?" The Head obviously had not known this.

"I liked her, I really did. So fascinating." Her mother shrugged. "But you know, that thing appeared, that wand. We thought, well, we thought if we hid it, she wouldn't become one. You know, that she could grow up and be part of the family. She was doing well too, she was a good baby you know—hardly ever cried at all."

"We didn't mean any harm…" Her father shuffled his feet and Hermione had never felt so betrayed. They had never been good parents, but now they were just awful.

"So you _are_ a witch." The member of the Guard who was in charge jeered. "You're coming with us. You'll be executed tomorrow at sunrise."

"Only time to execute them witches." The third guard was saying as they grabbed her arms and dragged her out of the room. "Sunrise you know. Burning them at night is bad luck."

Hermione saw the Granger family all standing there and knew that they would all forget this; none of them would remember this by tomorrow. Nobody would ever talk about it. They'd be there at breakfast, Aunt Alice pestering Jane about marrying, and Great Aunt Michelle not remembering a single name.

For the first time ever, Hermione dropped her head and let her do something that she had always wanted to be able to do. She cried.

* * *

She was taken to the prison. Her head had been down the entire time and she just wept. She remembered the other children taunting her for wanting to belong, she remembered the way she scrapped her knee and stood there and bled while her mother just nodded her head and murmured an, "I know, dear" every few minutes.

And now she was a witch. Now she was going to be burned at the stake. She sat in her cold, dank cell, on the old straw that was supposed to be a bed, staring numbly at the wall across from her.

_I almost wish…but no. I don't. I won't say 'I wish I had never met Crookshanks or Firenze.' _

_ I'm glad I did. _

As the night grew later and colder, Hermione shivered, bundling herself together, telling herself that it would be terrible to freeze to death before they could burn her. A bitter little joke. There was nothing left to do.

A soft meow made Hermione's head jerk up. There, in the window of her cell, sat a cat with shining eyes. A ginger-colored cat. And best of all was what it had in its mouth.

A ring of keys.

Hermione scrambled over and let Crookshanks drop the keys into her hands. She knew that one of the members of the Guard came by every hour to see if everyone (she knew there was at least one other person in the jail with her because they were very loud and drunk) was still in their cell.

"Jus' a spot o' brandy for me!" The person sang and Hermione wondered what they had been put into jail for. It was best not to stop and ask—they could be a murderer for all she knew.

The guard walked by ten minutes later, saw that everything was fine, and kept walking down the hall until he turned a corner and was out of sight. Hermione unlocked her cell door as quietly as she possibly could and very carefully stepped out. She went up the stairs, staying pressed against the wall in the shadows. How she wished Crookshanks was there!

When she got to the first floor, she saw that most of the members of the Guard were drinking in the other room and so she grabbed a thick black cloak that was a bit big for her but she would need it, and turned down a hallway.

At the end of it was a door. She opened the door carefully and there was Crookshanks. The moon was out that night, not so good for cover, but wonderful to see her way in. She'd have to dash for the woods on the other side of the prison, which wouldn't be too hard, and she was wrapped up in black.

Crookshanks dropped something in the grass and Hermione knelt down and picked it up.

It was a thin piece of wood, a wand.

"Oh, Crookshanks…is this…" Hermione started but Crookshanks gave her an impatient look. "Oh, sorry, sorry! Let's go, please!" And they dashed for it. The cold air seeped in wherever it could and Hermione felt like her heart was going to stop beating until they made it to the woods.

Crookshanks led the way and Hermione had to walk carefully because it was dark and she didn't want to fall over anything. Even with being careful, she tripped over things and had quite a few nasty scratches on her palms. Her knees were banged up from accidentally running into fallen trees.

But still she kept going, Crookshanks leading the way, Hermione following. Her hands were turning blue and her face felt numb but she knew it was no good stopping _now_, they weren't nearly far enough away.

After a few more hours of walking though, Hermione knew she should probably rest. She wondered how far they had gotten, it was impossible to tell. She sat down, until to spring back up because she had sat on an old glass jar. She set it upright and sat down next to it, with a tree against her back. Crookshanks put himself in her lap. Hermione stared upwards and saw the stars.

_What do the stars say? I wish Firenze was here, he'd know what to do._

She was freezing and she knew that it was quite possible she wouldn't last the night if this continued. She pulled out her wand and looked at it. It was strangely ordinary for something so mystifying.

_I'm a witch. I bet Firenze knew. I bet Crookshanks knew too. _

_ But why didn't anyone tell me? And now where will I go? There's no where I'd be safe…_

Hermione wished she could think of a way to warm herself up. She began tapping the wand on the jar as though it was a quill and she was just working out a particularly complex problem.

"You know what we need Crookshanks?" Hermione scratched the cat under the neck with her free hand. "We need a fire. But a fire with no smoke. And no sparks. And doesn't give off as much light. We just need the heat. That would be just perfect…too bad there's no such thing, huh? But I wonder if there isn't a way to make a fire like that. Perhaps if you could just figure out what types of things to mix together or what kind of alcohols—because they are very flammable you know—you would have to mix and—I say! What's that glow?" Hermione turned to look at the jar sitting next to her and discovered that there was a fire inside it.

A little blue fire that had no fuel source that she could see, but yet it burned on. It didn't have smoke or sparks or anything. It was just a little blue fire in a jar and it was giving off heat that washed over her like warm bath water.

Hermione held out her hand to touch the jar and discovered that it was cool to the touch, yet over the jar was hot—it seemed to be where all the heat was coming from.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione shook the cat with her hand that wasn't holding the wand. "Look! I did it! I did magic! I really am a witch! And I _could_ learn magic. I just need someone to teach me. And I don't care about ever going back to that awful house again." Tears stung at her eyes as she thought of the family members and the way her own parents had let her be dragged off to be burned at the stake. "It's alright Crookshanks, it really is. Let's just get some sleep now and we'll think about what to do tomorrow."

Hermione bundled herself into her cloak and Crookshanks curled up beside her and they fell asleep in the comfortable heat that her little blue fire was giving off.

_I can't sit around and feel sorry myself…there's so much I need to do…_

_ But where will I go to do it all?_

_

* * *

_

To Be Continued

* * *


	4. Part the Fourth

This is the last installment of this story. Many thanks to everyone who likes it! Why did I write this story? Well, I feel like Hermione is a very misrepresented character and I wanted to show her as a person. Sometimes in fanfiction, I think people tend to focus on one side of her personality, so I tried to go for all of Hermione. I feel like I've done a good job, but I'm sure others will disagree with me. Please enjoy the last part.

Note: The Granger family has some interesting notes about it. Jill's original name in my hand-written notes was Polly but for some reason I thought it was Jill when I was typing up the first part. (I guess I was in a _Chronicles of Narnia_ kind of mood…). Great Aunt Michelle, who can never remember anybody's name was modeled after my bad habit—I have such a hard time with names sometimes! Another habit made into a character was Jane—I like to suck on peppermint sticks when I'm stuck and don't know what to write. The Head's personality was modeled after my French teacher's…man was that woman terrifying. (It's amazing how a five foot tall bony woman can be remembered as a towering giant breathing fire because you forgot to do your homework.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Spooooky. Not really.

* * *

Heretic

Part the Fourth

* * *

The problem of where she would go was bothering her all the next day. It was yet another day of walking and walking and walking. She had ripped off the bottom part of the heavy cloak so that she could walk easier and she was glad of it because she was carrying her jar of blue fire. She didn't need the heat it gave off during the day but she had found a little lid for the jar and so she had clamped it on.

A jarred fire. It still struck her as amazing. She was so proud of it, it was _her _jarred fire.

The walking was a little slower but her and Crookshanks were still going about. She had no idea where they were headed or what direction. She thought the mountains were getting nearer, so it might be that they were going north.

"The northernmost city of Annwn is Fal." Hermione recited. "It's a great city of trade. Nobody likes to go North on account of all the superstitions. Somebody said there were giants in the mountains! I wonder if that's true!" She glanced down at Crookshanks. "You know, I bet all the things I've ever said didn't exist must really exist. But there was never any proof before. But now there is."

Sunlight poured through the gaps in the trees and areas were lit up with a strange green light. It was magical all by itself. Hermione found this day a little better and thought that perhaps with enough practice she could make each day better and better.

Maybe they would find a place where they could sit and be alone and not be bothered—but that wasn't right. Hadn't she said that they should stick up for themselves? There must be something she could do. Maybe there was a rebellion somewhere.

Hadn't Firenze himself talked of Albus Dumbledore rallying people? Of course, she had no idea where Dumbledore was or what they might be rallying for, but maybe she should try to look. But she was faced with the question of _how_. She couldn't just waltz into a village and tell them she was looking to join the local rebellion and wanted to know where to sign up for it.

_There must be a way…_

But Crookshanks _was_ leading her. He had to know where he was going. He had never just let her follow while wandered aimlessly. Maybe he knew where the local rebellion was.

_Maybe he's secretly Albus Dumbledore. _

Hermione giggled at that thought. But hey, stranger things had been true. She was a witch, Crookshanks wasn't actually a full-blooded cat, and…and…

_And the Granger household can't stick up for itself…it just let me go…_

"I won't start feeling sorry for myself!" Hermione spoke determinedly. "If I start, I'm sure it'll be hard to stop. I just can't. I can get through this. I just need to keep going."

But as the day wore on, Hermione began to feel sick of walking. Her feet hurt, her legs ached, and she was so thirsty that she got down on all fours at one point and began lapping up water from a stream, just like Crookshanks. She desperately wanted something to eat but she didn't really see anything on hand—other than Crookshanks.

_No matter how hungry I am, I will not eat my own cat. _

That didn't stop her from feeling hungry. She carefully looked for berries as she walked along but saw none. She decided that as soon as the sun went down, she was stopping for the night and getting some sleep.

_Maybe I can find something tomorrow…_

When it at last went dark, Hermione sank down to her knees and put her jar down before lying down and promptly falling asleep. It felt so good that she didn't care that there was a rock sticking into her back. Maybe she'd roll off of it in the night. As it was, she couldn't imagine moving again.

* * *

A fearsome howl pierced the air and Hermione shot up in her sleep. The howl had given her goose bumps and her heart was thumping in her chest. Crookshanks was still sleeping.

_It's nothing, it's just a wolf._

_ JUST a wolf? JUST a wolf? _

_ Okay, maybe it _is _something but we should just act calmly. Crookshanks is here, and we've got the magic wand _and _this jar._

The howl rippled through the air again, but this time it felt closer and Crookshanks woke up as well. Hermione's whole body hurt from walking all day and the rock that she hadn't rolled off felt as though it had left a very painful bruise. Crookshanks was on all fours, back arches, tail straight, and began hissing in a matter that Hermione deemed far too loud and attention getting.

"Crookshanks!" She said the name in an earnest plead but Crookshanks behavior didn't change.

_What do I do now? _

_ Pick up the jar._

Hermione grabbed the jar and realized that the faint blue glow might very well attract other animals so she tried to hide it with her cloak. Her heart froze completely as she heard a sound that was unmistakably an animal moving through the trees towards them. Crookshanks growled fiercely but Hermione didn't feel any better.

She scrambled towards a tree and had her back pressed against it when from the other side of the trees, she could see two glowing yellow eyes. Fangs, black fur, and a red tongue.

_Hmm, definitely a wolf._

_ Oh, I'm so glad we decided! Now we're all saved!_

_ This isn't the time for sarcasm! _

The huge, ferocious looking animal's eyes were locked on her and Hermione desperately wished she had thought about stealing one of the Guard's weapons or something when she was back at the prison. It leapt forward and Hermione winced and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting to feel teeth at her throat, but there was a cat-scream and a pained howl and she opened her eyes to see Crookshanks, claws sunk deep into the wolf's face and holding on for dear life.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione yelled and started forward but took a step back when the wolf tried to go towards her again, even with the cat attached to its face that was clawing like hell.

_What do I do! _

_ Crookshanks is trying to protect me but there's no way he can kill a wolf, half-magical or no!_

She grasped the jar in her hands and an idea formed. It might not work, but it was definitely worth a try.

"Move Crookshanks!" Hermione ordered and Crookshanks leaped sideways off the wolf's face. The wolf, seeing its opportunity went towards Hermione who wrenched off the lid and threw the jar forward.

The fire sailed out of it and landed on the wolf, which yelped in instant pain and the fire began to spread. The wolf took off into the darkness and they could hear its pained cries. Hermione was breathing heavily and she went over to Crookshanks.

"Oh, please say you're alright! I won't know what to do without you!" Hermione dropped to her knees and put her arms around Crookshanks. The cat began to purr. Hermione smiled in pure relief and hugged the cat. "That was awful, just awful! A wolf!"

Crookshanks struggled for a moment before Hermione realized he wanted to go free and she let him. Crookshanks ran over to a tree that had low branches and began climbing it. He stopped and looked very hard at her.

"Oh!" Hermione got up, her body, now not feeling frightened, remembering just how sore it was. "You want me to climb a tree. Honestly…"

She didn't know how she did it, but she managed to get up in the tree fairly high. She couldn't fall asleep or she'd fall out and that wouldn't do them any good. She kept awake by reciting things. She recited the names of trees, flowers, plants, cities, roads, exports, imports, rivers, mountains, and then began reciting books she had read—not by memory of course, but just reciting what she could remember from them, which turned out to be an awful lot.

When the trees were flooded with a dim, pinkish light, and it was clear that it was morning, Hermione climbed down from the tree and moaned. She felt worse now. She really wished she could get some sleep but she wanted to get as far from this area as possible—what with all the wolves running around.

Crookshanks led her to a bush first thing that contained berries that Hermione knew she could eat. She had no sense of propriety at that moment and found herself stuffing the berries into her mouth. When she finished doing that, she and Crookshanks went on.

She could hear the sound of a river and Crookshanks seemed to be leading her there. She wondered how wide the river was and if it would be particularly hard to cross. She sincerely hoped not.

"The last thing I want to be right now is tired and _wet_." Hermione informed Crookshanks importantly. "That would make me just miserable and I don't need any help there—oh I am complaining, aren't I?" But Crookshanks had stopped for a moment and then started going forward with a curiosity to him. Like he wished to sneak up on someone.

Hermione went quiet, sensing his need for it. They stepped out from some trees and she saw the river—which meant water—but also saw that it was rather wide. On the good side of things though, it was a shallow river, probably a foot deep at most. That wouldn't be so bad. If she hiked her skirts up, tying them up by waist, and carried her cloak in her arms, she could reach the other side and—

Her line of thinking stopped because there was somebody already by the banks of the river. A weary looking blonde man who was looking at a torn up coat with a hint of dismay to his face.

Hermione almost gasped when he pulled out a wand and said something she couldn't quite make out. More extraordinary was that the coat mended itself like new. She completely forgot herself and took a step forward, which made noise because she was walking on rocks now. The man looked up sharply and Hermione had a sudden sense of foreboding. Maybe he wasn't friendly, maybe he was someone horrible…

Crookshanks hissed softly at him and the man's wary expression turned into a gentle one.

"Oh, it's you." The man smiled. He had pale skin and blonde hair, and these large grey eyes that were rather unusual to Hermione, who was used to the many brunettes and all the shades there in at the Granger House.

"Huh?" Hermione didn't understand what he meant.

"You gave me quite a turn last night." He pulled his newly-mended coat on. "But I'm glad that you did. I didn't realize that there would be wanderers this far north…"

"What…?" Hermione's brow furrowed as she tried to think of what he was talking about. Maybe he was a vagrant. "I don't remember meeting you last night."

"I'm sure you do." He seemed rather convinced. "I looked a little different, fangs, covered in fur."

"What!" Hermione jumped a little. "Are you saying…are you saying…that you were…" An impossible idea occurred to her and she remembered not so long ago, at the breakfast table, Great Uncle Henry trying to make a point with a butter dish.

_"It's quite simple." He picked up the butter knife. "So there's one werewolf right? And it's this stick of butter. Then I take the knife—a good symbol for a wolf's fangs—"_

_ "Wonderful Harry." Michelle encouraged him. _

_ "And it bites another person so…" Henry took some butter onto his knife and put it on a piece of toast. "So now this piece of toast—a good symbol for the person—"_

_ "Excellent, utterly delightful." Michelle interrupted. _

_ "Is spread through with the werewolf disease. And that's how it spreads!" _

"My name is Remus Lupin—a werewolf." Remus held out a hand to her. "How do you do?" Hermione looked at him warily. "I'm quite safe, I can only turn into a werewolf at the full moon and right now, it's day time."

"Well…" Hermione went forward and shook his hand briefly. "How do you do, Mr. Lupin? My name's Hermione Granger."

"Granger?" Remus blinked. "Do you mean…the Granger family?"

"Yes, but I don't want to talk about it." Hermione did her best to look very prim and proper. "So you're a werewolf, then? But you're also a wizard. I can tell, I saw your wand, I have one too."

"Yes." Remus smiled. "I'm a wizard and I'm guessing you must be a witch." Hermione nodded proudly. "So young too…what are you doing wandering out in the woods?"

"It's better than being burned at the stake." Hermione stated simply.

"I'll agree with that." Remus seemed to think this was practical. "I'll tell you something Miss Granger, I'm from the mountains, but once a month, I go to a place in the forest where I'm not likely to meet another human and become a werewolf. I have to, I don't get a choice, you see. But I try to avoid hurting anyone. I live in a castle in the mountains—its run by a man named Albus Dumbledore."

"Albus Dumbledore!" Hermione exclaimed in wonder. Remus' eyebrows rose. "A centaur named Firenze told me about him…"

"You've met Firenze?" Remus blinked in surprise. "I won't have to tell you about him. He teaches kids magic, the ones that we can find who can use it. I could take you up to the school if you'd like Hermione."

"What about the Guard?" Hermione questioned.

"The Guard doesn't go into the Northern Mountains." Remus chuckled. Hermione wasn't sure what was so funny. "Everyone's very superstitious about these mountains, but they're actually quite pleasant. There's other children there, around your age."

"Oh." Hermione wondered if that was supposed to be an incentive to go. She had never really had friends before and who knew if these kids would like her any better than the last lot. "I don't know…I mean, I just met you and you _are_ a werewolf. How do I know I can trust what you're saying?"

"That's a good—" Remus started to agree but Crookshanks jumped into his lap. He looked vaguely surprised. "I haven't seen too many cats take kindly to me…"

"He's half-Kneazle." Hermione replied promptly.

"That somewhat explains it." Remus petted the ginger cat that purred and gave Hermione one of Crookshanks' looks.

"Oh Crookshanks! You're so impossible!" Hermione pursed her lips but then she laughed. "Crookshanks has good judgment. If he says we should go with you, then we should."

"Wonderful!" Remus looked enthusiastic. "I have a horse waiting for me a few miles away—so I wouldn't accidentally attack it. We'll both fit on it just fine."

"What about Crookshanks?" Hermione inquired, picking up her cat.

"He can come too, Hagrid says that cats make him sneeze, but I'm sure no one will mind him being around." Remus replied.

They got up and went off together, towards the North. Hermione thought of all the things that had happened to her, about the house, and the family, and finding out she was a witch, and meeting a werewolf. She wondered vaguely if she would trade away all that for a normal life.

Then she glanced down at Crookshanks and thought about all the adventure and how for twelve years of her life, she had done nothing but study. She thought about how she had never had any friends before Firenze and Crookshanks. And she had never had courage before them, either. She had stood up for what she believed in and there wasn't a better feeling in the world.

_Some things you just wouldn't trade for the world!_

_

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The End

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Ah! It's finished! It's like six in the morning here! I've been listening to my Potions CD. (That's Potions: Relaxin' with Final Fantasy, for those of you who don't know.) I thought it was good mood music for this one. Especially 'Balamb Garden'. I know, I know, it was a bit different from Doppelganger, maybe it wasn't as emotional, but I still feel like I did a good job. (Good back story!) The third story in the series will be **Adversary**, and though I can't tell you who it's about, I'm sure you can take a wild guess. It's really good too! I promise! (Actually, next to **Doppelganger**, it's probably the one I'm most excited to write—I mean, I'm excited to write them all, but this one I'm totally in love with!) Please tell me what you thought of the story! See you all in the next story! 


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